


Beginning

by Semi_problematic



Series: Hunter and Prey [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Backstory, Dean pisses sam off a lot, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love/Hate, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sloppy Makeouts, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Unrelated Winchesters (Supernatural), but sam ends up falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:33:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: Dean Smith is a mechanic in Arkansas. Sam Winchester is a hunter who has never had a home.-“You overheated her.” Sam wanted to ask why Dean called it a her, but he didn't considering that meant talking to Dean. “But don't worry, baby,-” Dean rubbed the side of the car. “I will fix you up good as new.”“Thanks.” Sam mumbled, backing away. “Do you want to check it out or-”“You from out of town?” Dean asked, clicking on his flashlight, looking down at the car.“What was your first clue?” Sam asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm out of town. I don't really ever stay in a town.”“I can dig that.” Dean flashed a smile up at Sam. “Never settling down? Sounds like the life.”The fact that Dean talked to him like he knew him really pissed Sam off. “Its not.”“Must not be your night, big guy.”-Part one of my Hunter!Sam and normal!Dean series





	Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Okay hi, the description is trash I know but please!!! This is so good.
> 
> So, Hunter!Sam and normal!dean is a plot I recently came up with and am in love with. I plan on doing multiple one shots in the universe but they might not be in order. I haven't decided how I am going to do it.

The engine purred beneath Sam as he sped down the long stretch of asphalt. He had been driving for hours, fleeing the scene of his most recent kill. There had been a pack of werewolves and as much as he wanted to hide the bodies, he didn't have time. They were college students and there was far too much evidence stacked against Sam for him to stay longer.

Running was one of the worst parts of hunting. Laying low in small towns while the recent killings were spread across each state. Not every monster looked like a monster. Not all detectives would find teeth hidden beneath gums or bite marks that turned them. Even when those were found they ignored it. That's why Sam was around. He did the dirty deeds everyone would rather ignore. Being good was tiring, which was something he learned fast. 

He was thirty four now and had yet to do anything positively monumental. His addictions and mistakes followed him, but his successes didn't. The fact that he graduated at nineteen with a 4.0 and a full ride meant nothing. Sam was held back at eighteen. The attendance was horrible his first senior year and it tore Sam apart. All he wanted was to prove to people he was smart, but the world seemed to want anything but. 

Sam's mother died when he was nearly six months old. It took him twenty four years to find out that his mother made a deal. She wanted to save John, so she agreed that a demon could take something from her. Little did Mary know that when she was taken from Sam, she took Sams life with her. 

The perfect life for Sam would exclude all hunting. He would have a boring and painfully ordinary job where he sat at a desk and wore a suit and worked a normal nine to five gig. He would come home and eat homemade food and be with his family. Sam knew he would never escape hunting now and that his normal life was long gone, but he did try.

By twenty Sam had met a wonderful girl at Stanford. Her name was Jessica and she was easily Sam's best friend. He loved her and she loved him, except it wasn't the same. Jessica was in love with him and everyone knew. Their love story was a tragic one. They ended up dating for two years, Sam constantly pushing away any feelings he had for any boys and focusing on keeping Jessica happy. Normal lives were only for straight boys and girls. Not for the gay ones who could hardly talk to someone and had never came out. After months of pressure, Sam finally bit the bullet and bought a ring. Sure, Sam wasn't in love with her, but how bad could it be to marry your best friend? 

Then, Jessica died. She burned on the ceiling, blonde curls fanned out across Sams bedroom ceiling the same way Mary's was twenty one years before. With heat crawling up his neck and fire burning his heels once more, Sam was shoved back into hunting. He dropped out of school, throwing away his scholarships, friendships, and any hope left of having a normal life. 

Hunting wasn't all bad. Saving people was always the right thing to do, even if the people rather die. Many did. The trauma they had gone through was extreme and extensive. Killing monsters was always bad, though, especially when they looked human. Night after night, Sam would remind himself that those were monsters. He would close his eyes and pretend they were killers, not vampires or werewolves. Even after years of hunting it was easier to pretend monsters weren't real. Just for a second.

When he lived with Jessica he was able to quit most of his hunting habits. A few hidden sigils and lore books were hidden throughout their apartment. A gun and a knife were put only where Sam would find it if he really needed it. His hidden life worked for the most part. They were safe and monsters left them alone. Their biggest problem was algebra tests and picking which party to go to, if any. 

It worked until a demon decided he strayed too far from his path. Azazel, the demon that killed Mary and Jessica, decided that Sam had to be hunting. He was born for that life. Sam realized early on that he wouldn't be settling down again. No more houses and home cooked meals, only motels and fast food. Settling down wasn't safe for anyone involved. Sam wasn't going to get more people killed just so he could have a scrap of an apple pie life. 

Azazel was sent to do a lot more than keep Sam on the right path, though. When Sam was just a baby, the night his mother died, Azazel snuck into their house and bleed into Sam's mouth. That night Sam was tainted. Demon blood filled his system, sticking to him like a magnet. Since that night Sam had been dirty, tainted by a disease that was incurable, a stain that could never be scrubbed clean.

The blood followed him like the fire. He ended up becoming addicted. A woman named Ruby told him that by tearing himself down and filling himself with more of the disease that he could help people. She lied. Sam opened Hell up and let Lucifer free. That was when Sam really came into play. 

Sam was born to be Lucifer's vessel. A boy named Adam, Johns other son, was set to be Michael. They would fight once Lucifer was released and that would be the end of it. Sam hated it. He tried to kill himself but Lucifer would just bring him back. Accepting it was easier. He could save people that way. It was hard, though, feeling Lucifer kill countless people with his own hands. When Sam took over and ended it all it was a miracle. 

And when he came back... he was tired. Something people had yet to understand about him was that he was ready to die. He had been through hell and back, his body and mind caving beneath the stress of it all. The hunting. The mistakes. Lucifer and the demon blood. Death seemed like a peaceful end to his chaotic life. Except nothing would allow him to stay dead. When he fell into the cage with Lucifer and was tortured, he got sent back up to earth. When he tried to kill himself, Lucifer brought him back. 

Sam Winchester was alive and it was everyone's choice but his own. 

Tonight was one of those nights where it was hard. The long stretch of road and the soft music playing in the background put Sam in a trance. Was this worth it? Or should he drive off the road? Maybe speed up and slam into the next bridge he sees? Several ways to finally end it sped through his mind. He thought them over, too. The thoughts were tempting. Sam was tired, oh so tired, and the idea of it all finally being done sounded perfect. 

Existing for other people was harder than existing for yourself. Letting yourself down was normal, but knowing that you let other people down only added a weight. Sam felt like he owed people things. Safety. Happiness. Favors. He wanted nothing more than to be good, but if the sickness inside him and the darkness that followed him would never leave, what was the point? Why not give up? 

Days like this happened a lot more now that he was older. He had saved so many people, but he deserved to save himself too. Existing was pointless if it was miserable for him. If each breath was a chore and no matter how much he slept he was tired. Sam had been to hell and back more times than he could count. The lines between Earth and Hell were blurred for him. Existing was hell, no matter where he was.

Sam tightened his grip on the wheel and looked at the bridge he sped under. One turn could end it all. Hunters had spent time and time again mourning him. Lucifer was trapped, there was no way he could force Sam to stay alive. There were no other cars on the road, not on either side. Now would be the time to do it. To veer off and end it all. Sam could finally rest. No one would be hurt and it would all be over. 

Sam took a deep breath and loosened his grip, reading the signs he drove past. He was somewhere in Arkansas, between two main cities. There were small towns scattered around for a little over a hundred miles, but no hotels or malls were found. Small towns were what Sam had always loved. The distance of it all was perfect for him. If he was alone and far away from hunters and monsters he could be happy. The only flaw? There was nowhere Sam could go that he wouldn't be found. 

Sam pressed his foot down on the gas and ignored the jerk that sent him back in his seat. Silently, Sam prayed that there were no police around. Stopping him was useless at this point and he didn't want to take anyone down with him. His car rumbled as he sped up, his fingers falling loose from the wheel.

This was it.

It can end. 

Except his car began to slow down. A strange scratching noise filled his ears, covering up the soft hum of the car radio. Sam pulled his foot off of the gas, looking in his mirrors. 

"What the hell?" Sam whispered to himself, slamming his hand against the wheel. Second by second his car slowed down. Smoke began to pour out from under the hood of his car, covering the window in seconds. Sam took a deep breath and pulled over to the side of the road before shutting his car off and climbing out.

Sam popped the hood and fanned the smoke away from his face, backing up. 

This wasn't the end. He tried his best to ignore the sadness filling his brain, but he couldn't. It was impossible for Sam to escape this life and it felt like an ongoing joke. Each time Sam felt okay, the world fell apart. Each time he was done, the world punished him for it. Why was it his job to fix everything? What made him so special?

While he swore under his breath, Sam slammed the hood closed. This couldn't be happening. He tugged his fingers through his tangled hair and looked around. The highway was still empty on both sides, no cars to be heard. It was a Friday night, though, and he was in between small towns. There was no reason for anyone to be around here. 

“Great,” Sam muttered to himself, looking down at his feet. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away from his still smoking car, onto the bumpy asphalt of the highway. He took one step. Then another. Then another. The white line stripe was soon beneath his feet, wind rushing around him. Sam looked both ways before shaking his head. “This can't be happening. It's not-” He tried to force back the tears in his eyes. “It's not happening.” 

Sam collapsed, his knees buckling beneath his weight. He winced when his knees hit the ground, then his hands. His hands were balled into fists, his back hunched as he curled up in the road. The highway. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky, attempting to count each star. Someone had to drive through, someone just like Sam. Empty and tired and alone. 

Within fifteen minutes Sam was stumbling to his feet again. Dried tears stuck on his skin, his nose running. He wiped it with the back of his hand, shaking his head. His head was throbbing, but the effort of digging through all of his bags to find medicine was pointless. His car had stopped smoking, thankfully, but Sam wasn't dumb enough to try and start it. He knew it wouldn't. Besides, Sam didn't need to be let down again.

Sam tugged his door open and climbed inside the car, leaning forward and resting his forehead against the steering wheel. A few more tears slipped down his face and dripped down onto his jeans. Only this could happen to him. He felt crazy for considering that it was the demons again. They were always the ones to stop him right before he ended it. They had a habit of getting in the way like that. Sam sat up and wiped his eyes, sinking back in his seat.

The bright screen of his phone read 11:49 p.m. and Sam wanted nothing more than to break it. No one was going to be able to come and get him and his car at this time. No cities were around and most stores in small towns closed at ten. The world was out to get him, that was what it felt like, but it wouldn't be the first time. Still, Sam unlocked his phone and typed in “auto shops near me” and hit send. Sam held his breath as he waited for the results.

Surprisingly, twenty three miles away was an auto shop in a small town Sam had never heard of. Tontitown. It said that the shop would be closing at midnight, but Sam figured it was worth a try anyway. Maybe they would pity him enough to drive out and get him. 

Sam hovered his thumb over the call button before finally pushing it and pressing his phone to his ear. The ringing got on his nerves quickly and he was too tired to care about how angry he was that it took three rings to answer. They were still open, they should answer. 

“Hey, I'm Miranda, and this is Smith’s Shop. What can I do for you?” Her voice was too loud for Sam’s taste, but he was just being moody.

“Hello…” Sam began. “I'm Sam and I'm kind of stranded on the side of a highway- it's not busy but I was wondering if you guys could maybe come pick me up? I'll pay whatever you want, I'll pay extra but I just… there's nothing around.”

“I'm sorry sir but- Dean! Give me the phone back!”

“Hey.” A man was on the line now. Dean. “Where are you at, buddy?”

“We close in like ten minutes!”

“Go home.” Dean replied to the woman. Miranda. “I can handle all the paperwork.” There was rusting on Dean's end of the line before silence. “Do you know where you are?”

“I um…” Sam took a deep breath. He wanted to cry and shout and break his car and rip his hair out. “Sorry, I'm having a hard night-”

“I can tell.” Sam wasn't in the mood for this. “Are there any road signs around?” 

“Let me look…” Sam climbed out of his car and looked around, stopping when he saw a big green sign. “It says… I'm on 412 near Huntsville. There's a food stop and it says theres a McDonald's and a Subway nearby-”

“I know where you are.” Dean cut him off. “I'll be there in thirty. Don't worry about prices or anything until tomorrow. Okay?”

That left Sam on edge. He wasn't in the mood for any tricks and no one was this nice. Not to Sam anyway. “Okay.” Sam went to say “thank you” but the line was already dead. 

It took Dean around forty five minutes to get there, but Sam wasn't complaining. It was nearly one and the highway had remained empty until his tow truck pulled up in front of Sam with blazing headlights. He climbed out of the car and sauntered towards Sam.

“Who the hell gave you a car this nice?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “It's a family thing.” He said blankly. “My dad gave it to me. Look-” He stepped towards Dean. “Are you going to help me or not?” 

“Hey,” Dean put his hands up in defense. “I am, I am, it's just a shame someone gave such a nice car to someone who has no idea how to use it.” 

Sam ignored him, popping the hood. “I was driving and then this noise happened and it started smokin-”

“You overheated her.” Sam wanted to ask why Dean called it a her, but he didn't considering that meant talking to Dean. “But don't worry, baby,-” Dean rubbed the side of the car. “I will fix you up good as new.” 

“Thanks.” Sam mumbled, backing away. “Do you want to check it out or-”

“You from out of town?” Dean asked, clicking on his flashlight, looking down at the car.

“What was your first clue?” Sam asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm out of town. I don't really ever stay in a town.”

“I can dig that.” Dean flashed a smile up at Sam. “Never settling down? Sounds like the life.”

The fact that Dean talked to him like he knew him really pissed Sam off. “Its not.”

“Must not be your night, big guy.” Dean shut off his light and walked back towards his car. “Stranded on the side of the road and completely clueless as to what happened-” 

“Don’t rub it in.” Sam was only half joking. “You know, saying that stuff isn't going to get you tipped.”

“Big talk for a man who begged me to come down here.” Dean looked over at Sam, chuckling. “Besides, I'm not here for tips. I'm here for fun.”

“For fun?”

“Yeah, I mean, it's one in the morning and your car broke down miles from any help.” He was looking inside of his car now. “I wanted to see what you looked like.”

“What I looked like?” Sam tilted his head to the side. “Is this- is this funny to you?”

“Partly.” Dean climbed out of his car with a bigger flashlight, setting it up on the side of his truck. “But I also stay open late on Friday's for this reason. I'm not gonna leave anyone stranded.” 

“How kind.” Sam backed away from Dean, shaking his head. “So, my car overheated, how do we fix it?”

“Well, I'm going to take her in and let her relax overnight-” Dean was making heart eyes at the car, Sam could swear it. “Then I'll fix her up in the morning, add some fluid and probably check everything else since your knowledge on cars is… minimal.” 

“Just load my car up and take me into town.” 

“You know, if you weren't so angry you'd be my type.”

It was Sam's turn to flash a smile. “Thanks.” He grinned. “Guess I'll keep being angry.” 

“You say you go from town to town but… why this late?”

Sam was on the run from a lot of things. Hunters. Monsters. Family. Himself. “Driving at night always seemed fun.” 

“Yeah?” Dean was hooking the car up on chains, rushing around Sam without hesitating. “How's that working out for you?”

“Fine.”

Dean laughed at him. “You're stubborn.”

“And you're annoying, I guess we both at gonna suffer tonight.”

“I guess we are.” 

Within minutes Dean was loading the car onto the bed of his truck. It was almost interesting how he could do it without thinking. Muscle memory was probably to blame. He was older than Sam, it was obvious, and this was his job. 

“Hop in.” Dean called once the car was safe and secured on the truck. “And get comfortable. It's gonna be a long drive.” He smirked when Sam glared at him. “I am not speeding with an impala, no way. It's too nice of a car.”

They drove in silence for a minutes upon minutes, rock music softly playing. Sam was curled up against the seat, his arms wrapped around himself. The truck was small, his knees nearly tucked up against his chest. It was dirty, too. Papers thrown all around and tools littering the floor and the seats behind them. Dean was humming along to the music and now that Sam could see him, he could almost tolerate how annoying he was. He was handsome, scruff covering parts of his jaw. His lips were full, too, the kind of lips you see on a model, not a man who rides a tow truck. The quiet must have annoyed Dean because he began to speak. 

“I'm Dean.” Dean whispered. Sam almost forgot he hadn't told him. He was still studying Dean. “And you are?”

“Sam.” Sam whispered, chewing on his inner cheek. Dean was covered in freckles and they looked like stars. Counting them seemed like a lot more fun. Anything seemed to be more fun than small talk with Dean.

“Look,” Deans whiskey thick voice pulled Sam's attention away from his face. “I don't know who you are, or what you're doing here, but I am sorry that you had a bad night.” 

“Thanks.” Sam replied, turning towards the window.

“And-” Dean raised his eyebrows and glanced at Sam. “Staring is rude.”

“I wasn't staring.” Sam lied. “I was just watching you. Trying to figure out if you're rude to over compensate or if being an asshole normally works on guys.”

Dean chuckled, tapping his hands against the wheel. “Look, I'm a nice guy, but the cocky attitude tends to work every once in a while.” He looked over at Sam. “Is it working?”

“Not at all.” Sam found himself smiling. He hadn't done that in a long time. “I'm surprised it works.”

“Well,” Dean shrugged. “It's a small town and most men in it aren't gay until they've downed a couple drinks.” Dean switched lanes, slowing down a little. “So, of course I flirt with the cute guys whose cars break down.”

“How has that worked out for ya?”

“Got a broken nose once. And a black eye.” Dean licked his lips. “But I also got a hell of a lot of makeouts in this car.” He bit his lip and looked over at Sam, driving up the exit ramp. “Have you decided how it's gonna work out tonight?”

Sam shrugged, thankful that the darkness hid the blush on his cheeks. It felt good being flirted with. Sam couldn't remember the last time he had sex or even kissed someone. He had a few ex boyfriends after Jessica but that was different. This was a one night thing. “Makeout.”

“Really?” Dean seemed surprised. That was a good sign, at least that's what Sam hoped. “Because I really thought you hated me back there.” A new side of Dean was peeking through. One that was lonely like Sam. Dean must have noticed how “needy” he sounded because within seconds he was a cocky asshole once more. Sam had to give it to him, though. Dean made being a jerk look hot. “So… you want to?”

“Mhm.” Sam felt like a teenager again. Sweaty palms and racing hearts. “It's been a while.” If needy came off as unattractive Sam had to play the same game. “Might as well, ya know?”

“Mhm.” Dean turned at a blinking red light, heading down a road that had a store. The parking lot of it was empty, and so were the smaller parking lots surrounding it. Next to the store was a bright yellow sign, the only sign that was on. It read “Smith's Shop” in red lights while yellow ones blinked around it. Dean pulled into the parking lot of the bigger store, shutting his lights off.

Sam looked at him, biting his lip. He knew from a young age that everything was scarier in the dark, but the darkness surrounding Dean and him felt positive. Giddy. “You turn the lights off for a reason?”

“So we don't get caught.” Dean smiled at him. Sam could see the outline of his face thanks to the dim streetlight. 

“We aren't teenagers.”

“Shut up.” Dean breathed, shrugging his jacket off. He wasn't wearing a uniform but he did have a name tag on. Maybe if Sam wasn't such a mess he would have cared more. He climbed into Sam's lap and fit almost perfect. Dean slid his hands through Sam's hair, leaning in close. “You sure you want to?”

Sam nodded, desperately. “Yeah.” 

Dean closed the gap between them, kissing Sam so soft he nearly melted. Dean's hands roamed across Sam's body while Sam kept his hands on his hips. Each time Dean shifted Sam’s fingertips would ghost over his skin. Sam found himself whimpering into the kiss, tugging Dean as close as he could get him. Sam's skin was on fire, his eyes closed tight as he gripped Dean. It had been too long since he had been close to someone. He almost forgot how good it felt. 

“You're a little needy, huh?”

Sam nearly growled, kissing his neck. “Shut the hell up, you want it too.” He slipped his hands into Dean’s back pockets, kissing up to his lips. 

“Hey,” Dean tilted his head to the side, pulling away from him. “I never said I didn't like needy…” He slid his hands down Sams chest, chewing on his lip. He drug his nails across his chest, taking a deep breath. “God… you work out?”

Sam shoved hunting out of his mind. This man didn't need to know about that. Sam could be whoever he wanted. “Yeah, pull ups and push ups and stuff. Weights-”

“Too bad you keep moving.” Dean kissed him again. “You sound kinda perfect.” 

Sam felt his heart flutter beneath his chest and for a few seconds he wanted to cry. This life was so hard on him. So painful and so long. Even though this was just a one time thing it felt amazing. Having someone be close and kiss him and touch him. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Dean humped, slipping his hands under his shirt, dragging his nails across the skin. “Tall, long hair, dimples-” He kissed Sam again. “Muscles.” 

Sam pulled him into another kiss, slipping his tongue into his mouth. They kissed and they kissed and they kissed. The only time they stopped was to breathe and even then they were still close. Touching each other and pulling each other closer. Sam couldn't tell where Dean ended and he began anymore. It was perfect. 

Dean pulled away, panting. His lips were swollen and red. “Promise me something, yeah?”

Sam stared up at him, holding back whimpers. He needed more. To be close to Dean. To kiss him and feel him. His hands were still wondering across his body. “Hm?” Sam hummed, leaning in and kissing his neck.

“You make sure to come back here, yeah?” Dean's hand was tangled in Sam's hair, holding him close. Dean needed this too. Sam could tell. 

“Promise.” Sam replied without hesitating. He felt alive again. Being around Dean wasn't a chore. It was fun and exciting and nothing had been this good for Sam, not for years. 

The drive across the parking lot was too short and only reminded Sam how lonely he was. He was thirty four, he shouldn't be this excited for something. He was too attached to Dean already. His heart ached at the idea of leaving and soared at the idea of staying. It was a small town and a couple days won't hurt. Dean reminded him what it felt like to feel wanted, not used, and as stupid as it sounded it was just what Sam needed. 

“Follow me.” Dean muttered once he parked the car and climbed out.

“Wait!” Sam called. “Can I get A bag from the car?” 

Dean nodded, tossing him his keys. “Your other stuff will be safe.” A tall fence surrounded the back of the shop, a few more trucks like Dean's were parked behind it. Sam was sure his car would be okay. Part of him even wished it would get stolen. Guns and books and clothes and everything. Give him a new start.

The inside of the shop was small. Four cars were able to fit inside the garage and be worked on, which seemed small to Sam, but was more than enough for the town. All the lights but one were turned off.

“So,” A woman with long, curly brown hair stood beside the counter. “This is who I had to stay late for?” 

“Sorr-”

“I told you that you could go home.” Dean hung his keys on a hook before grabbing another set. “His car was burnt out and he was on an empty highway, miles from us. He needed this.”

“Don’t make me sound like a bitch.” She sighed. “I'll just come in late tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Dean grumbled. “Sam, this is the sunshine you talked to on the phone earlier.”

“Sorry for… for keeping you here.” Sam hunched down some, tucking his hands in his coat pockets.

“Oh!” Miranda put her hand on Sam's arm. “It's fine. I just love to give Dean shit.” She backed up some, her heels clicking against the floor. They were the same bright red her dress was. 

“Asshole!” Dean called.

“Come over here with me.” Miranda had a few papers on top of the counter and a red pen in hand. Must be her favorite, Sam thought. “And between you and me, I stayed because Dean can't to paperwork for his life.” 

Sam smiled. “I understand.”

Filling out the paperwork was easy. Miranda really knew what she was doing. Dean, on the other hand, was scribbling on a piece of paper he had hidden from eight. It was simple, though. Sam had most of his stuff memorized since he only took the car to shops. Cars never interested Sam and if he was being honest, paying people to do it was a lot better than actually doing it. If he could, Sam would avoid cars for good. John, his father, had always tried to force him to learn about cars. It was the worst. Sam liked learning stories and reading, not building things. John didn't seem to understand that. When he died and the car became Sam’s, Sam was pissed. After all the years of fighting and insulting him, John still couldn't remember how much he despised cars.

“And that's it.” Miranda smiled at him and slipped the papers into a folder before slipping into a small box underneath the table. “I'll see you tomorrow, Dean!” She called as she collected her things and rushed to the door. “See you, Sam.” 

Dean flipped her off as she walked away, chuckling when she glared at him. “She's like a little sister to me.” He mumbled, looking over at Sam. “You got a place to stay-” He stopped. “Dumb question, sorry.”

“Is there a motel in town?” Sam asked, turning to face Dean. “I have money.” 

“Yeah, there's one just down the road.” Dean patted the top of the table. “Is the bag of clothes you snagged from the car enough?”

Sam nodded. “It will be for tonight.”

“You hungry?”

Sam ignored the ache in his stomach. “Yeah… but it's fine. I'll get something at the motel-”

“I'll get you a burger or something. We got a 24 hour McDonald's, pretty snazzy, huh?” Dean elbowed him and walked towards the door. 

They locked up and shut all the lights off before wandering out into a empty parking lot. Dean's car was not what Sam expected. It was a black jeep Cherokee with a few mud stains on the tires and paint. The inside was clean, which also shocked Sam considering how his truck looked. 

“You're making a face.” Dean mumbled once he buckled his seat belt. “Why?”

Sam smiled to himself. “Just not what I expected.”

“I would kill for a car like yours, but this-” Dean tapped the dashboard. “This is great too. She gets me where I need to be and she's safe.” 

Dean liked burgers. When they pulled up to the McDonald's he ordered three double cheeseburgers for himself then two large fries. Sam ordered some chicken nuggets and a small fry, along with a happy meal just for the apples. It took five minutes for them to decide who paid. It was Dean, but only because he was closer to the worker than Sam was. Sam swore to pay Dean back and take him somewhere. Dean seemed to like that, too.

The motel was rundown but not the scariest Sam had ever seen. A hot pink vacancy sign shined bright on the three cars below it. Two were workers or at least that's what Dean said. 

“You sure you got money?”

“My car broke down.” Sam stated. “I'm not homeless.” He climbed out of the car and pulled on his backpack, picking up his food. “Thank you for the ride-”

“Hey-” Dean stopped him before he could close the door. He slipped a piece of paper into Sams pocket and smiled at him. “I hope I made tonight less sucky.” 

Sam smiled, nodding. “You did.”

The man behind the counter was not amused that Sam was checking in at nearly three in the morning, but Sam didn't care. He was living for himself now, riding the high he had until it finally faded. Sam got the farthest room from the check in area which made him laugh. It was clean and had a nice bed for the most part. Sams dinner was good, too. He hadn't been eating much, so a full stomach was different. He didn't bother unpacking his bag, he just stripped down to his boxers and laid down in bed. 

The television worked but no good shows were on. It was either paid programming or a kids show, so Sam shut it off once he had gone through all the channels twice. The blankets were kind of rough and itchy, not that Sam expected anything more. Sam ended up switching on the alarm clock radio and turning it on low so he could have some noise in the room.

Sam laid in bed for a while, tossing and turning, struggling to get comfortable. His body was thankful that he was laying on a real bed and not curled up in the back of his car. 

“Baby.” Sam whispered. That's what Dean had called it. Sam never understood why men did that, it always irritated him, but when Dean did it, it was sweet. Sam closed his eyes and repeated the memory in his mind over and over. Maybe Dean would call him that.

He was getting ahead of himself, but Sam had no room in his mind to remind himself how pathetic it looked. He was happy for the first time in a while. Kissing Dean was the best he had felt in years. Taking a few days off from traveling wouldn't kill him. Dean enjoyed his company, or at least that's what it felt like.

Sam sat up in bed and grabbed his jacket off of the floor, stuffing his hand in the pocket Dean slipped a paper in. 

"Sam, I don't normally do this, so make sure you choose wisely. My number is 913-444-7896. Call me sometime or something. Tonight was good. - Dean" 

Sam smiled to himself, gripping the paper in his fist. He rolled onto his side and sighed into his pillow, closing his eyes. They liked each other. Staying for a few days won't hurt. The world could take a break for Sam. He deserved this, whatever it was. Dean made him laugh and made him feel special and made him feel alive. Sam would be a fool to miss the opportunity.

“Hey, Bobby. It's me, Sam… I um.. I'm taking a break.” Sam had called Bobby and Bobby didn't answer, obviously, but Sam needed one person to know where he was in case things went south. “Just for a few days... like a vacation. I'll keep looking for any hunts around, though.” Sam fell silent, looking at the note in his hand. “And… and tonight I met someone.” His smile grew wider. “I'll call you and check in tomorrow.” He hung up, tossing his phone to the side. 

Sleep came easy for Sam. The springs dug into his back and the blankets scratched at his skin, but he was normal for once, for a few days. Nothing was going to ruin that.


End file.
